


You Didn't Even Come To The Wedding

by 15atay



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/15atay/pseuds/15atay
Summary: Santana runs into Quinn a few years after the wedding and confronts her about disappearing from all of their lives. It's the beginning of their journey to confront their past together- so there can possibly be a future.
Relationships: Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	1. 1

“You didn’t come to the wedding.”

Quinn sighed, running her finger around the rim of her glass, not turning to face the voice she immediately recognized. Santana hadn’t even said it in the accusatory tone she would have expected. It was more matter of fact. Bordering on soft, the voice she only overheard her use with Britney. A softness she had been graced with in a few fleeting moments in the past.

“Would you like to join me for a drink?” Quinn asked, turning her head to the side but still not looking in her eyes.

Santana sighed and pulled out the stool next to Quinn. “I was walking to the subway when I glanced in this bar and saw you, I had to do a double-take.”

“Yeah, who would have thought in a city of millions I’d run into another Lima loser” Quinn teased and ordered Santana a drink.

“Oh, you still don’t consider yourself that, anymore do you? Miss Ivy league, Nazi secret society member” Santana quipped without missing a beat.

“I ended up not getting into that society actually, it was probably for the best…a bunch of squares”

“Oh yeah?’ Did you go through another punk rock phase senior year of college too?”

“Bitch did you even go to college?” Quinn smirked as she took a sip of her drink

Santana cracked a big grin at that, she had missed Quinn. “I did. I ended up at Fordham eventually. The Lincoln Center campus, near where we ran around that fountain at Nationals junior year actually.” Santana expected Quinn to smile or comment on the memory but she just took another silent drink. Santana tried again. “So how have you been Q? What are you doing in the city?”

“How come you haven’t touched your drink?”

Santana was caught off guard by the question. “Oh…I won’t be drinking for about 7 more months actually”

Quinn chuckled lightly in disbelief. “Brittney knocked you up? I would have thought it would have been the other way around.” Quinn mused as she took a long sip. Santana studied her face as she did. She always had trouble reading Quinn. She was so good at reading everyone, their feelings, their fears, their glances- that’s partly why she was so good at ripping them apart. Because she knew exactly where to hit. But Quinn was different. It wasn’t that she was soul-less, Santana could tell there was a lot in there, but she could never get a glimpse. Sure, Santana built walls, hell back in high school she had built a fortress. But walls could be climbed. Britney had climbed them with ease and now, that she had grown and matured, she would even let them down willingly when she felt safe. But Quinn? It was like she was a black hole. You knew so much was there, you could feel the weight of all it all - the gravity of it. And it could suck you in too. But it almost like there was too much pain too much confusion, too much of everything. The way black absorbs all light so you can’t see anything at all.

Quinn was signing the check. She grabbed Santana’s drink and kicked half of it back. “Well, I need to go.”

Santana still had so many questions and knew she might not see Quinn for a couple more years at this rate. “What train are you taking?” She asked as she stood up and left a tip.

“The L “

“You came to Manhattan to drink alone?”

“I wouldn’t have been drinking alone if you weren’t knocked up”

Santana raised her eyebrow. Quinn’s remark had a little too much bite to it, even for someone who had just had two drinks back to back.

“I work in Manhattan; I came here after working late. Now back to Brooklyn” Quinn explained as she slipped on her coat.

“I’ll walk with you; my train stop is past yours”

Quinn nodded silently.

“And for the record, Britney and I got a sperm donor, she didn’t ‘knock me up’”

“Oh? Someone weird and inappropriate like Mr. Shue or Burt?”

“Ew Q why would you say that? It was a friend from college”

“I don’t know” Quinn shrugged as they walked through the cool night “I feel it’s something all you glee people would do”

“You used to be one of those glee people”

“I’m sorry I’m not so caught up in the past to be so attached to my hometown and after school club”

“I thought we meant more than that to you…I thought I meant more than that to you” Santana looked over at her as they walked, Quinn looked ahead. She had broached a new subject now; a story she knew Quinn definitely didn’t want to discuss. A story about two freshmen in something they were too afraid to call love, a story about two old friends at a failed wedding, a story about two woman at such different places in their lives that a metro north ticket couldn’t bring them together. Santana sighed at the thought and tried to bring the conversation back to the main point.

“Glee…we were a family.”

“You have a family-Santana….” Quinn smirked …” You’re a mother”

Santana actually laughed, Quinn was still a bitch and she loved her for it. She hadn’t thought about that fight they had junior year in so long. It felt so far away, so childish now. Particularly because they both knew what they had actually been fighting about that day, and it wasn’t a summer surgery.”

“We’re both mothers now…but Glee was about chosen family- we chose you and you dropped us all- why?”

Jokes aside she was starting to lose her patience. That was the other thing about Quinn. She was this black hole, this hard shell but also so fragile. Santana had always felt if she wanted a conversation with her to go anywhere, she had to walk on eggshells and push her so slowly. That’s why she so often didn’t even bother when they were younger. Opting for a sharp word or underhanded trick if necessary, it was easier to get a reaction that way. Feeling her anger was better than feeling nothing at all.

“Santana you can’t just show up in my life after a few years and start bringing up shit from high school. I’m not in the mood.” Quinn sighed and stared at the ground while she spoke. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry I moved on; I grew up.”

“Did you grow up Q? Because this feels like the same shit you were pulling when you were 15.”

Santana saw something flash across Quinn’s face before it set. She walked closer, softening her voice again.

“Look…I’m not saying we needed to become best friends again. But you dropped off the face of the earth! Half the Glee club lives in New York and none of us ever hear form you. Hell, I ran into you mom at the store last time I was in Lima and she said you don’t even come home anymore! Santana was yelling now, mostly because she was frustrated but also because she desperately wanted to understand. If Britney were here, she’d interject or place a hand on her back as a reminder to breath, but she wasn’t here- so Santana was screaming into the night, next to a fucking subway stop.

Quinn stared back and for a second she looked like she was about to speak. Then they heard a rumble under their feet, they were standing on a grate, so the hot air rushed around them. The train was coming, and they didn’t run that frequently at night, if she missed this one, she would be stuck with Santana for another 25 minutes. Quinn turned and as her first foot hit the stairs, she heard Santana, even quieter now.

“And Finn’s memorial…. I know our past is complicated but Quinn you didn’t even come to the fucking memorial”

Quinn paused.

“Finn and I’s relationship was rocky at best and it still tore me apart inside. I know it hurt you too…why do you insist on hurting alone?”

The question hung in the air as Quinn stood on the first step down toward the train. It was silent now, or as silent as any street in New York City can be and then the soft rumble of the L train began again as it pulled out of the station. Quinn had missed her train. There wouldn’t be another for 25 minutes.

She started walking down the stairs anyway. Santana didn’t follow her.

She had stopped following her, hoping for answers that would never come, many years ago.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Let the record reflect that I love Brittana and they are adorable. I personally have a hard time writing a Britney that is both in character and functions within my stories but I admire other writers who can pull off that feat. That being said Brittney will kind of just be in the background during this fic. I haven’t decided what the final nature of Santana and Quinn’s relationship will be.   
> 2) I know that Quinn does randomly appear in a couple of episodes post-Finn’s death, just not the big gay wedding but for the purposes of this fic she is MIA during all of season 5 & 6 so of course, she and puck don’t end up together.

At first, Santana almost expected Quinn to reach out after that night. They had always made up, even if it was only with a snarky comment or help fixing each other’s ponytails instead of an apology. Quinn still had her number and they were friends on social media even though Quinn never posted. But no texts, calls, or DMs came and soon thoughts about Quinn were replaced with thoughts about preparing for the baby. Besides, Britney had said she probably needed time. 

“It’s been years! Is that not enough fucking time for the ice queen to melt?” Santana mumbled into her pillow. One of the perks of her slightly growing stomach was she was always the little spoon now. 

“There are plenty of people who never talk to people from high school again” Britney reasoned while playing with Santana's hair as they lay in bed, almost a week after the night at the bar.

Santana sighed “Quinn wasn’t just people; she wasn’t just some friend for us”

“I know babe, I know.”

But Britney didn’t know. Not all of it anyway. She wasn’t there when Santana’s childhood best friend had disappeared for a month one summer and came back with a new face and a detailed plan on how they were going to rule high school. She wasn’t there as they worked out and practiced in preparation for Sue’s infamous freshman tryouts, the crazy fad diets they had looked up on the internet and made them sick, the sleepovers spent marathoning Bring It On movies. More importantly, she didn’t know about how Santana’s heart would race the closer they would cuddle as the movies played on or the way Quinn slowly realized that what she had assumed was just envy of Santana’s body, was something deeper as she achieved the same results but still couldn’t stop staring. Britney doesn’t know about that warm August night the two never spoke of again. No, all Britney knew was the two girls she met on the first day of tryouts and who she really didn’t befriend until almost the end of the season. She only knew Santana and Quinn right before they fell apart. 

\-----

The next time Santana saw most of the Gleeks happened to be her baby shower several months later. She debated if she should even bring up her run-in with Quinn at all, but when all her co-workers and college friends left as the party wound down and it was only the Glee kids left sitting around the living room, she felt compelled to share. 

Mercedes seemed particularly hurt. They hadn’t hung out all the time in high school, but they were close. Quinn had lived with her when her parents and Finn kicked her out, she had held her hand while she gave birth. Surely that had to warrant a hello every now and again. She was already hurt by her absence, but knowing it was so intentional hurt a bit more. Rachel had a lot, too much, to say about it, of course, Tina had her theories, Blaine tried to psychoanalyze even though he didn’t know the first thing about Quinn and the rest just shook their heads. 

Soon the conversation shifted to other things, and then the shower came to an end. Life went on, she read baby books, she went to work, she spent her weekends cuddling with her wife watching tv on the couch. 

And then she lost the baby.

It wasn’t dramatic like in the movies. She wasn’t in labor when it happened, there was no bloody scene. She was just at a routine doctor’s appointment when the doctor came back into the office and told her the child she had been whispering to through the day wasn’t there anymore. There was no more heartbeat.

Britney was amazingly supportive. She held Santana every time she needed to cry, gave her space when she asked and assured her that they could do whatever they wanted next. Not have kids, try again, adopt, or shelve this conversation until they both felt ready. Britney, of course, had her own grieving to do and from Santana’s viewpoint, she was much better at it. Meditating, doing yoga, dancing of course, and filling a journal with positive affirmations every day. Rachel, Kurt and Blaine were nice enough to come over one day and pack up the nursery they had already set up and put it all in boxes in the closet while the couple went for a walk in the park. Everything was going as well as it could, and Britney was seeming to return to her rainbows, unicorns and kitten self. Santana was happy for her and somedays she was starting to feel normal again to, but somedays she would wake up and not get out of bed till 5 pm or wake up in the middle of the night because suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She would carefully sneak out of bed to go sit on the couch because she didn’t want to do breathing exercises with Britney, she just wanted to cry and ache and possibly get drunk. She knew she needed to work on moving on and healing but sometimes she felt like no one understood even though they tried. 

She just wanted someone to sulk with, to agree with her that the world was a cold and cruel and shitty place, someone who knew what it was like to lose a child. 

She needed Quinn. 

So, when Britney went away for some math convention, the first time she’d been alone since everything had happened, something compelled her to pull up her text thread with Quinn. She chuckled at how pathetic the one-sided conversation looked:

Three texts ago was a text asking if she was going to the dedication of the auditorium for Finn. She figured that she might come because she had had years to deal with his death. No answer. 

The second to last was asking if she was going to attend the watch party for Rachel’s Tony nomination. Santana thought since it didn’t involve going back to Ohio she might come. She didn’t. 

The last text was asking if she was going to Mercedes’ wedding. It was Mercedes, she had to come. When she didn’t answer, and didn’t show up, Santana gave up. 

This time felt different too, but these past three texts proved that didn’t matter to Quinn. She decided to go for it anyway, not expecting a reply. If Quinn didn’t answer she’d just hit up her friends from college or something.

“I lost the baby.” There was no use in beating around the bush she figured. 

Much to her surprise, Quinn responded a couple of minutes later. 

“Meet me at that bar.”  
\------------

Santana walked into the bar surprised to see that Quinn had beat her there. Moving to sit at the same two stools they had sat months ago she saw Quinn had even already ordered her a drink, whiskey on the rocks. At first, they both just sat nursing their drinks. Santana appreciated the company and the silence. After having so many people asking her how she was, how was she holding up, how she was feeling, it felt nice to just have a moment to feel. Santana ordered the second round, trying to get Quinn to drink whiskey with her but Quinn insisted she stick to her vodka sodas.

“Typical” Santana smirked as she watched the bartender set down the drink.

“What?” Quinn asked as she took her first sip.

“It’s just so you- that drink- who drinks vodka soda? So bland.”

“What 28-year-old woman drinks straight whiskey?” Quinn laughed 

“The badass kind” Santana quipped while clinking her glass with Quinn’s. “And besides, it’s not straight, I don't do anything straight, there’s ice.” 

Silence fell over the pair again for a minute or so until suddenly Quinn spoke up.....


	3. Chapter 3

Santana walked into the bar surprised to see that Quinn had beat her there. Moving to sit at the same two stools they had sat months ago she saw Quinn had even already ordered her a drink, whiskey on the rocks. At first, they both just sat nursing their drinks. Santana appreciated the company and the silence. After having so many people asking her how she was, how was she holding up, how she was feeling, it felt nice to just have a moment to feel. Santana ordered the second round, trying to get Quinn to drink whiskey with her but Quinn insisted she stick to her vodka sodas.  
“Typical” Santana smirked as she watched the bartender set down the drink.  
“What?” Quinn asked as she took her first sip.  
“It’s just so you- that drink- who drinks vodka soda? So bland.”  
“What 28-year-old woman drinks straight whiskey?” Quinn laughed  
“The badass kind” Santana quipped while clinking her glass with Quinn’s. “And besides, it’s not straight, I don't do anything straight, there’s ice.”  
Quinn smirked and then silence fell over the pair again for a minute or so until suddenly Quinn spoke up.....  
“Beth’s birthday was last week actually”

“Oh.. sorry, had no idea when I texted you.”

Quinn smiled weakly, “It’s fine, how could you? Besides at least Beth has a birthday.” 

“I’ll drink to that- this is supposed to be my pity party remember?” Santana replied, hoping the dark humor would improve both their moods. It didn’t.

But talking about other people’s problems was always easier than talking about her own and Quinn seemed to be opening up, so she pushed. 

“Have you spoken with her? She’s a teenager now isn’t she?” 

“She’s 12” Quinn replied taking an extra-long sip. “And no, I haven’t seen her since high school…after everything that went down with Shelby, we agreed that I wouldn’t bother her and Shelby would tell her about me when she is 18.”

“Wait she doesn’t know she’s adopted?” Santana asked incredulously 

“No, she knows, but unless she starts asking about her birth mother Shelby isn’t going to bring me up until she’s 18, that was the agreement” Quinn finished with a sigh. “I guess she hasn’t asked.”

“How do you know Shelby isn’t lying? There is no way Beth is 12 and has never even been curious.”

“Maybe… but I’m not going to push it, I don’t want to get the courts involved- that’s not what’s best for her. And besides I’m not her mother what would I even say to her?”

Santana didn’t have an answer for that. Quinn continued after a moment. 

“At least I know my child is out there safe, being taken care of…Ohio is a great place to raise a family.”

Santana still sat silently, thinking that maybe not having a baby was for the, best. That she didn’t bring a child into this shitty ass world where she couldn’t always protect them. But she knew that wasn’t what grieving mothers were supposed to say, so she didn’t. Instead, she tried again to reminisce. 

“So that means that twelve years ago today we were performing at regionals for the first time. You had some good moves for someone who’s water was second away from bursting.”

“You know to this day I think my water broke because that performance was one of the first times I was relaxed in months?”

“Relaxed? Before I went on I thought I was going to vomit!”

“Yeah well I didn’t have a big solo like you-“

“’ The smell of wine and cheap perfume”? Yeah, what a solo- Santana replied sarcastically while signaling the bartender for a 3rd round. Quinn hadn’t finished her second but this was her pity party and she could drink if she wanted to. 

“Yeah, well anyway, I don’t know with the cheerios the focus was always on the three of us, Sue wanted perfection from all of us but we were the captains and everything had to be flawless down to the inch. With Glee…sure it was annoying Rachel got all the solos but it felt so good to perform and have fun at the same time you know?”

“Yeah, I know” Santana smiled, this is what she had wanted, that night months ago at this bar, all these years. To talk and remember with the one person who got it the most. 

“Well as much as Berry worked our last nerve, she’s made it big now. She mentioned at my shower that she is going to reprise her starring Broadway role in the movie adaption. As much as I hate to admit it, and would never admit it to her, she was made for that part.”

“Yeah I know she was amazing”

“Wait you went and saw?”

“Of course, after you texted me about her being nominated for a Tony I went and saw her the next night”

“Wow, you did all that but couldn’t answer my text?” Santana replied sounding more bitter than she intended. 

Quinn heard it, and maybe it was the third drink talking but she apologized. “I read all your texts. And I want…I wanted to reply. To see you-“

Santana caught her eye at that

“…to see all of you again. But it already felt like so long. I just wasn’t ready to deal with it all. For it to all come back.” She knew that was a piss poor explanation and she expected Santana to say as much. But the woman surprised her again. 

“That’s fair” Santana replied with a shrug. It was a dismissive one, just an acknowledgment of a complicated reality.

“When did you become so fucking grown-up?” Quinn laughed lightly. “Did Brittney do this to you?”

Santana rolled her eyes. “A little bit. But so, did life, having a job, gaining friends…losing friends, preparing for a baby-life I guess. A lot of growing up happens between 18-28.” 

“Oh yeah? Not making out at basement parties with girl’s recent ex’s anymore?”

Santana was taken back by when Quinn brought up something so old. “Don’t tell me you are still mad about my beard 1.0 Trotty mouth. I’ve done plenty of things to piss you off since then. Santana stated matter of factly while finishing off her third whiskey. She instinctively checked her phone expecting a text from Brittney asking when she’d be home before remembering she was at her conference. So she eyed Quinn with a smirk before order two shots.

“Santana.” Quinn scolded pursing her lips

“What this is my miscarriage party remember?!” Santana replied slightly too loud. Several people turned to look, but the content of her words made them quickly leave the pair be. 

“Shots?” Quinn replied incredulously 

“Why not?” Santana replied as she grabbed the salt to prepare her and Quinn’s hands as the tequila was set on the table. 

“Because we are two grown women-“

“It’s Friday!”

“And we have each already have three drinks-“  
“You are the one bringing up shit from 2011! How are we gonna hash it out without the familiar taste of tequila on out lips?” Santana asked while wiggling her eyebrows

“It won’t really be the same because you won’t be licking the salt off Brittney’s abs”

“Look Q. We are two lonely bitches in an overpriced bar in Manhattan, too afraid to talk about the fact that we won’t be going home to the kids we spent 9 months creating and loving and imagining a future for. So, take the fucking shot.”

At that air tight logic all Quinn could do was shrug and kick the shot back. The lime and salt helped. And so did the giddy look on Santana’s face. The thing about one shot. Is that it begats another and now they are both giggling like they are back in Santana’s basement freshman year after chugging all the beer Santana made Puck get for them before kicking him out. Now they were talking about everything, what Quinn had been up to all these years, Santana’s college adventures and missteps and yes even Glee club. Quinn looked so happy and care free. The way she was looking at Santana, it was look she hadn’t seen in so so long. Something possessed Santana to bring back up Rachel’s trainwreck extravaganza. 

“You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you”

“What?” Quinn asked, sluring her word so slightly only Santana could tell.

“That night when I was all over Sam at Rachel’s party. It was Brittney, stripping for Artie in the corner on the washing machine I was trying to make jealous”

“I know…it’s always Britney” She spoke dryly, they had switched to water, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on her mental state.

“What is that supposed to mean” Santana’s brain was even foggier, she ordered one last round of shots and when Quinn refused hers, Santana took both before Quinn could tell her how much of a bad that was. 

“Forget it- I have to go.” Quinn snapped before pushing her stool back. They had already closed the tab when they got cut off. 

Santana balked. Just like that, Ice queen Quinn was back. And it pissed Santana off. She grabbed at Quinn’s arm. “No! What the fuck do you mean?”

“Forget is Santana” Quinn pushed past the brunette and Santana grabbed her purse and followed, focusing most of her energy on not stumbling in her heels as she walked.

“What do you mean ‘It’s always Brittney’?! You mean my fucking wife?!”

“Santana, I don’t want to do this with you right now-”

“I know you fucking don’t, but you never do Quinn but look- I’m sorry ok? I’m sorry you were too fucking scared ok!” Santana almost cried as she yelled, the alcohol removing any concern for privacy. This wasn’t the first time they had this fight. They had it in Santana’s basement freshman year. They’d had it in the hotel room the morning after that faithful Valentine’s day, but they had always spoken in code. Danced around the issue. And maybe it was the tequila, or the empty city street or being too grown for this bullshit but Santana was sick of pretending this wasn’t under it all.

“You know it was always you Quinn.” Quinn stopped at that. “You know it was always you - but you were too much of a coward…. I was a coward too, but I was willing to be brave for you.”

Quinn turned and looked at Santana, she was crying, always the weepy drunk. Quinn just stared back. Daring her to continue. 

“But it was always about popularity! or it was about your dad or it was about your religion! But then you let fucking Puckerman knock you up and I knew it wasn’t about any of that bullshit. You just didn’t want me... Not as much as I wanted you. There was a long pause after that as Santana looked at the ground. But she steeled herself and when her eyes rose to meet Quinn’s again the head bitch in charge had returned. 

“So, I moved on! Too bad! You wanted me to wait for you? I did! For so fucking long Q but I couldn’t wait forever. And Brittney makes me happy! She LOVES me. So too fucking bad it’s always about Brittney now.”

Quinn took a step closer, but Santana pushed her away. “No fuck you! I don’t want to hear it Q.” Now Santana was the one walking quickly toward the subway station.

“Santana it wasn’t like that at all… Please!”

But Santana was already underground.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thanks for all the positive feedback! I haven't written a story in years so all the kudos and the reviews are so encouraging!

Quinn’s ride back to Brooklyn felt even longer than usual that night. Her headphones were dead, of fucking course, so she was left with the sounds of the L train banging along and her own thoughts. She almost wished a subway performer would start a noisy plea for money or a crying baby could break her inner tension, but it was late and while the train was by no means empty, everyone quietly kept to themselves on their commute home. So, she had no choice but to keep replaying everything, Santana had said over and over in her head. Though she had protested to how Santana had framed their past, she knew she hadn’t lied at all about what happened. 

They had been inseparable in elementary and middle school; they met on a playground at the park in between Lima Heights and Quinn’s neighborhood back when Quinn was still Lucy and Santana was still too young to care. After that first day, they would trek the 10 minutes in-between each other’s backyards or meet in the middle at the park. As elementary school blended into middle school, they spent more time in each other’s bedrooms watching tv and pouring over teen magazines and Myspace in an effort to be less like tweens and more like teens. And Quinn found herself more and more jealous of Santana’s looks as each month went by. One of them looked like the girls on the tv shows they watched and it wasn’t Quinn. Because they lived in different neighborhoods they went to different elementary and middle schools, so Santana was completely oblivious to how much of a social pariah Quinn was at school. When she was younger Quinn loved that about Santana, that she just treated her like her normal best friend, but by 7th grade, it felt like she just didn’t understand. Laying on Quinn’s carpet the day after a Lima Heights school dance she would sit and listen to the adventures and high jinks Santana and her school friends got into, the boys who had asked her to dance, looked at the pictures on Santana’s digital camera of the hot pink skinny jeans she had worn that Quinn knew she’d never feel comfortable wearing out of the house.

“You should go to your school’s dance next month Q!” Santana suggested off handily as she held the camera above her face laying on the bed deleting the worst photos. “ It was sooo fun, I know you don’t think you can dance that well but plenty of people just sway to the music…beside your school is all white kids- can anyone dance?”

“It’s not just about the dancing Santana” Quinn almost snapped. 

Santana noticed but chose to ignore it, she just wanted her friend to have fun. She shrugged and handed Quinn the camera to show her another picture  
.   
Quinn had so many conflicting feelings back then, feelings no 13-year-old could put into words. Admiration of Santana not only for her looks but with the confidence she cared herself. Resentment of those very same qualities, fear that her friend may start to slip away, especially when they got to high school and Santana would see for herself that Lucy was best left back at the playground. Not to mention something deeper, a pull she felt toward Santana but with so many other problems whatever that pull was the least of her concerns. But it was that pull that kept her from pushing Santana away, which meant she would need another plan before freshman year started. 

Of course, Santana had been surprised when she knocked on Quinn’s door the summer before they both would start at McKinley and saw Quinn’s new face. Or at least that’s the look Quinn saw on her face as she invited her up into her newly redecorated room that looked like something out of last month’s Seventeen magazine. Not only had she spent the last month letting her face heal, but she had also been planning. Planning what their perfect high school reign was going to be. Cheerleading, Chasity club, the cutest boys and the best hair. Nice cars at 16 and homecoming court and prom queens by 18. Santana sat at Quinn’s new vanity, nodding and taking in the new plan while looking up and down at Quinn with a mix of shock and curiosity. These were all things Santana wanted…. more or less, she hadn’t expected to do them with Quinn, but she was her best friend, so why not? And being the two determined women they were the plan was executed flawlessly….until sophomore year that is. But all through that summer and freshman year everything had gone exactly as planned and most of Quinn’s middle school angst had dissipated, only most…the pull she felt to Santana only grew stronger. She now knew it wasn’t just plain jealously because she looked just as good, maybe even better than her now. In fact, once she was made captain of the freshman squad of Cheerios she had solidified her #1 spot in the freshman class. Yet she still caught herself staring at Santana in class sometimes, relishing the hugs they gave each after winning competitions or saying goodbye. She even felt a pang of jealously when Santana started hanging off Puck’s arm even though she already had Finn wrapped around her finger and he was destined to be the star of the football team. What did Quinn have to be jealous of? And if it wasn’t jealously what was it?

Quinn got her answer one early winter night that freshman year when they were both drunk for the first time, alone in Santana’s basement. They were testing their alcohol limits in preparation for their first high school party the next weekend, so they knew how to be the perfect amount of drunk without getting sloppy. Once they discovered and made note of their limits, they kept on drinking and practicing their dance moves to songs they pulled up on YouTube. The combination of the alcohol and a tangled blanket around Santana’s foot led her to fall onto Quinn in a fit of giggles. After a beat Quinn looked up into Santana’s eyes and was surprised by how conflicted, almost sad she looked. What Quinn would later learn was “Santana the weepy drunk” had made her first appearance but before Quinn could ask what was wrong, she felt Santana’s lips on her own. Santana pulled away quickly, looking just as surprised as Quinn was. For her part, Quinn felt far too funny inside for her angrier drunk tendencies to emerge. They both sat, their backs against the couch as one song abruptly switched to the next. It snapped them both out of their trance and Quinn shot up to the computer, changing the subject to who was and wasn’t invited to next week’s party. 

They didn’t talk about the kiss for the rest of the evening or ever. Soon “incidents” like these became more and more common, first only after drinking then when drunk or late into the night. The kisses got longer, deeper and were sometimes initiated by Quinn. Quinn chose not to put any thought into the encounters, not knowing how to feel or respond until she could feel herself getting pulled in too deep, into what even a 15-year-old could tell was the beginning of love. So, she pushed Santana away. Hard. 

Nothing Santana had said outside that subway stop wasn’t true. 

At the time she was almost angry with Santana. She had told her from the beginning about her plans for their high school popularity rein and they had been succeeding! Why would she want to go and mess it up. Sure, she had her religion and parents to think about but conformity to heterosexuality was just one part of a larger campaign of popularity and perfection. She knew Santana wasn’t asking her to walk through the halls hand in hand and start a Gay-Straight alliance. This was still Ohio and Santana cared what people thought too. Santana would have been perfectly content, would prefer a secret romance much like what she eventually got with Brittney. Santana had always been only concerned with doing what she needed to seem popular but was willing to go after what she truly wanted as well: her secret obsession with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, her pursuit of solo’s in glee club, even girls. But Quinn wanted more than that. She didn’t want her life to just look perfect, she wanted her life to BE perfect. 

But even with Santana at arm’s length, her high school aspirations crumbled before her eyes. What did she have to show for her time at McKinley? A deadbeat mother, her Skank! phase and wheelchair. Perhaps it was worth it all since all that “adversity” got her into Yale. But she had spent so much time there trying to be Quinn 2.0 at Yale, planning her every move as to not repeat the missteps of highs school- joining the right societies, avoiding acapella groups and close female friendships, only ever having one drink not to mention keeping up with her schoolwork. She hadn’t enjoyed her college experience at all. Say what you want about the mess that was McKinley but at least she had had fun sometimes. 

Now she had a bullshit consulting job, the kind that only recruited from Ivy League schools and worked their young and bright employees hard until they left for graduate school, their fathers were ready to let them take over the family business or they married into old money. It was time for Quinn to make a move herself, at 28 she was already the second to last person left from the year she was hired. She had taken on some supervisor roles, so her employment wasn’t pathetic looking by any means but was this what all that planning had been for? A good-paying job in a Highrise in Manhattan where she ate expensive salads for lunch, tolerated the work and her coworkers and went home each night to a modern new build apartment in Brooklyn with a doorman and a beautiful view of the city to spend the few hours she wasn’t working? On occasion she would go on dates with finance bros with names like Chad and Trent and ate good sushi, once a every couple months she would treat herself to a Broadway show or concert but felt the sting of loneliness walking out of the venue with no one next to her to discuss how good or bad the performance was. The spark inside her had gone out long ago, and she sometimes felt so lonely she would drink at bars alone because it felt less pathetic than drinking alone in front of her tv. And that’s exactly how Santana had found her.

Suddenly the L train lurched to her stop and Quinn was pulled from her thoughts. She stopped at her corner bodega to get several Propel’s and Gatorades for what she knew would be a terrible hangover in the morning. She threw her keys on her marble counter and put all but one of the drinks in the fridge. She took huge gulps of the Propel while staring out of her floor to ceiling window, Manhattan in the distance. Her last thoughts before drifting to sleep were of Beth and Santana, the two people she wanted nothing more than to hold right now.


	5. Chapter 5

Santana called Brittany as soon as she got home. The tech conference was in Chicago so it was slightly earlier in the middle of the night, but Santana knew Brittney would always answer. After Quinn quietly broke her heart without explanation freshman year, Santana had played her fair share of games and been downright cruel toward the objects of her affection to avoid getting hurt again. Looking back, she wasn’t proud of all the cheating, cold words and manipulation she dished out. She especially regretted how she had treated Brittany at the beginning of their relationship. But she had grown up and she didn’t keep anything from Brittany anymore, which is why she was currently pacing the floor waiting for Brittany to pick up, the crying had subsided on the way home and her tears had turned into low grade rage. Not only did she feel obligated to tell her wife about the intense encounter with someone who could technically be categorized as her ex, Brittany was her best friend and she wanted nothing more than to be soothed and told that she was clearly in the right.   
“Baby is everything alright?” Brittany picked up and responded to the sound of Santana sniffling on the phone. Santana assured her there was no emergency and proceeded to tell her what had happened at the bar, summarizing the lynch pin of the argument as “she was just jealous…STILL jealous that we got together and kind of left her behind. But that was over a decade ago right?? Like is that why she never comes around? Why she didn’t come to our wedding? Because we made out a couple times when we were 14?” Santana downplayed her own reciprocal emotions, being honest was one thing but no one wanted to hear their wife still had dormant feelings for an old friend.   
“Well, you guys did hook up that time we were broken up” Brittany reasoned. 

Santana winced at that. “Yeah, well she freaked the fuck out then too.”  
Ok so maybe Santana wasn’t 100% honest with Brittney but what married person was? 96% was good enough, and a major improvement for her. She had never really gotten into the details of the morning after that Valentine’s day when she had disclosed the encounter to Brittany. They had just recently gotten back together and were both still a little raw. Brittney didn’t know about the almost euphoria Santana felt when she woke up in Quinn’s arms. It had felt so good it scared her, causing her to bolt up and lay her head on the opposite end of the bed. Brittney didn’t know it had been a “two-time thing” and that staring into each other’s eyes after the second time Quinn began to cry and confess half a decade’s worth of feelings. Santana turned away, quickly stopping her. Unwilling to go there with Quinn, not so suddenly, not when her heart now belonged to Brittany, not when Quinn had been the first to break her heart. Instead, she stood up and began to get dressed and as she slipped on her second heel, she suggested they take things slow, perhaps plan some visits to each other at Yale and in NYC and see where it went. When Quinn flaked on her first visit to New York and never followed up with an invite to New Haven, Santana knew she had been right to guard her heart.   
Brittany didn’t know about all that, but Santana was sure there were some detail of her and Sam’s relationship Brittany had left out to spare her feelings too. 

“San?” Brittany cut into the silence over the phone  
“Yeah…. sorry, I know it’s stupid to be this upset”  
“Don’t apologize, your feelings are valid. You can’t control how Quinn feels or reacts…”  
“Yeah” Santana sighed 

“I’m sorry the night turned so sour…I think you should drink two glasses of water, take some ibuprofen and go to bed”  
“I think you’re right”  
“I know I am” Brittany replied brightly, that made Santana smile. “I’ll be home tomorrow night ok?”  
“Ok good, I miss you Britt Britt”  
“I miss you too San, goodnight, I’ll text you in the morning.”  
Santana sighed as she set down her phone and prepared for bed.   
\------

The bad days began to space themselves out more and more and Santana began to relent to Brittany’s suggestions on ways to deal with her grief that didn’t involve alcohol. She got back into running, the top of Central Park was only a few blocks away from their apartment in East Harlem so she would go for a run whenever her thoughts got to her. At first the pain in her lungs and legs were a welcomed distraction. Then once she was in shape, it was an internal competition for how far she could get into the park before the pain in her lungs told her she needed to turn around. Her favorite part was the walk back to her apartment, soaking in the sights and sounds of her neighborhood. She loved how different New York City was from Lima, but East Harlem, with its majority Hispanic population, was the perfect mix of what she missed about Lima Heights and loved about the city.   
Time helped with the healing process as well, and she even joined Brittany in her morning meditations sometimes, though she demanded to do them while laying on her back with a promise Brittany wouldn’t wake her if she drifted back to sleep. But there were always occasional reminders. She would go into the spare closet for an umbrella and see the stacked-up boxes of what used to be the nursery, she’d catch herself staring wistfully at a smiling infant on tv or she’d get an ad for diapers or baby clothes in between Instagram stories as the algorithm hadn’t adjusted from the months of her expecting mother googling. So, while the exercise, mindfulness and time were helping a lot she still felt a little stuck.   
And it wasn’t entirely about the baby. Santana had felt stagnant in her life even before the couple had decided to get pregnant. But the baby was supposed to change all that, she wouldn’t have time to feel complacent or bored with a little bundle of joy to keep her occupied. But now with the baby gone and the idea of trying again still making her physically ill, she was back where she was months ago. It’s not that Santana wasn’t happy, most days. She was married to her high school sweetheart and love of her life, she loved living in the City, they had plenty of friends and got to travel and go home to visit their family often. She wasn’t unhappy at all, just restless, agitated. In some ways, her life was exactly how she had dreamed it back in Lima, she still looked great, she had Brittany by her side and enough money to keep up the lifestyle she wanted to live. Sure, she wasn’t “famous” the way she craved to be in high school, but she had tried her hand at show biz, being Rachel’s understudy, touring with Mercedes but it just hadn’t fit and she was ok with that. But her ambition hadn’t settled when plans for her life had and it was leaving her on edge. The baby was supposed to shake things up, in a good way, move her life forward onto that next chapter. But now she was back to treading water in that same old still pond.   
That’s what Santana was thinking about, weeks after’s her fight with Quinn. She had been spooning Brittany most of the night but got too hot and was now laying on her back consumed by her thoughts. Sighing, she glanced over at her phone to check the time before deciding to go sit on the couch and watch some tv as a distraction. She switched on Hulu and began an episode of one of her comfort shows, Rizzoli and Isles and poured herself a glass of wine. Several episodes and glasses later Santana watched as an intense courtroom scene played out and her thoughts wandered…..  
Santana had always wanted to go to law school right after college. She had already finished her undergraduate degree slightly later than usual and she knew she had the perfect temperament, intelligence and toughness to be a litigator. Fast paced, exciting and important with a little bit the theatrics that came with trials, she knew it would be a good fit. But the best New York City law schools valued work experience in older applicants and she needed to stay in the city, so she got a job as a paralegal at a law firm. Then the partner she was working for left the firm to work for a Startup and begged her to come with him with a promise of upward mobility. Before she knew it, she was 28 working at one of those companies that sold you products you could get a CVS but as a monthly subscription with nice packaging. She liked her colleagues, and the money was good. She had gotten those promotions she had been promised and once they had a baby on the way it was a done deal that she would make a career in that field.  
But now things had changed. And before the scene on the tv was over, she was downing the last of her glass of wine and opening her laptop to look up law school admissions deadlines. She had taken the LSAT years ago, right before she left the law firm, and those scores were good for 5 years. So, if she wanted to apply all she had to do was write the essays. The next episode began in the background as Santana mulled the decision to start writing over. She knew Brittany would support her; she would support her in anything she decided to do. It would be expensive, but between a scholarship, the money she had saved up for the baby, Brittany’s tech job, and federal loans they could swing it until she graduated in three years. Why not? She asked herself. It’s not like her current job sparked any passion in her, and this had been her original plan all along…and all she wanted to do was apply. There wouldn’t be any actual decisions to make until somewhere let her in. Not wanting to let go of the sudden surge of momentum, she switched off the tv and turned on some calming music and began typing up the first prompt for an application. She finished up the last first draft as the sun began to peak into her window. Yawning, she was thankful it was Sunday and climbed back into bed, enveloping Brittany in a strong embrace and quickly drifting to sleep.   
Brittany was just as supportive as Santana had expected. She had always felt a little bad that Santana had given up her dreams for the allure of stability. Santana had supported her when she had decided to leave her prestigious and high-paying job in the advanced mathematics department to pursue her dream of designing and coding games and software for kids with learning disabilities and so Brittany was glad, she had the opportunity to return the favor. And so, Santana happily went on completing her application packets and then choosing from the schools where she was accepted. 

\--------------------  
The next August, Santana Lopez strutted up the steps of the subway stop and toward her first day of orientation. She had chosen to attend the New York Academy of Law. It was within the same University as NYADA but NYAL didn’t roll off the tongue in the same way so colloquially among lawyers it was called N-Y-A (never to be confused with NYU or you may start a fight). Santana entered the large old marble building where orientation would begin and grabbed her name tag and coffee while surveying her NYA classmates. Plenty looked like they had just graduated college but according to the school’s website almost half of the class of 400 had worked before attending and it showed on the faces and clothing choices of the people milling about, she tried her best not to judge. Santana took a seat facing a stage where the Dean of the law school was about to begin her welcome speech. As the Dean finished up, she told everyone to take a long look around the room as “the people around you will be your lifelong colleagues and friends.” Santana looked cursorily at the sea of faces but stopped cold when across the room near the back she spotted Quinn Fabray.


End file.
